


9/8

by alice_pike



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alice_pike/pseuds/alice_pike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Chuck's dog tags swing in the space between them like a pendulum, keeping time.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	9/8

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/350.html?thread=222302#t222302) at the kink meme.

Chuck flips them easily, settling between Raleigh's spread legs without so much as a stutter in his rhythm, because Raleigh may have a couple of inches and ten pounds on him, and he may be able to hand Chuck's ass to him on a silver platter in a fight, but no one has ever said that Chuck Hansen can't get what he wants. 

Raleigh huffs in what might be acquiescence but is probably annoyance; Chuck can't tell and doesn't really care. He rolls his hips, a calculated, slow move, and the groan that escapes Raleigh at that is better, anyway. He stills, leans back a little, runs his hands up the back of Raleigh's thighs, bites at the inside of Raleigh's knee as he folds him into the bed, pinning him. Raleigh is _whining_ beneath him, wriggling uselessly, trying to fuck himself on Chuck's cock, but Chuck's grip is firm under Raleigh's knees and he has no intention of letting Raleigh up any time soon.

"Fuck, Hansen," Raleigh complains (he tends to call Chuck "Hansen" in bed, mostly because he runs his mouth at the best of times and can't fucking shut up in bed, but the first time "Fuck, Chuck," slipped out of his mouth, he couldn't stop laughing for no less than five minutes. Chuck endured it with the air of someone who'd heard it before, and was resigned to having to hear it again. Hence "Hansen") and reaches for him, fingers skimming Chuck's cheek before he gets a fistful of his hair and _pulls_ , trying to direct him, begging him wordlessly to _move_.

Chuck nods out of the hold, gritting his teeth against the sharp pull at his skull, but he gives in to Raleigh all the same, picks up his pace again. Raleigh mutters his appreciation, a constant stream of mostly nonsense that nevertheless builds in volume as Chuck keeps fucking him, his own staccato breaths mostly drowned out by the noise. 

The heat in Raleigh's room is starting to get overwhelming, the sheets starting to dampen with sweat. Chuck's hand slips from behind Raleigh's knee and he lurches forward with his own momentum, just manages to catch himself with a hand on either side of Raleigh's head. Raleigh just smiles at him (and it's not even a smirk, Chuck thinks, it's a fucking _smile_ ) and hooks his ankles together behind Chuck's back, a solid, encouraging weight, urging him to continue. 

Chuck nearly pulls out before slamming back into him, the shift in their position giving Chuck more leverage, and as he thrusts his dog tags swing in the space between them like a pendulum, keeping time. Chuck feels Raleigh tighten his legs around him, hears a chorus of "C'mon's," and "Harder, _fuck_ " in amongst the drabble, and Chuck swears, dropping to his elbows as his limbs start to go boneless, as his orgasm starts to build. His dog tags swing once more before actually hitting Raleigh in the face, settling on his cheek, and Raleigh turns his head so they slip over his lips, the rubber lining streaked wet with Raleigh's spit.

Chuck groans at the sight, dropping his head to mouth at Raleigh's temple, the shell of his ear, and when he comes back up, Raleigh is biting one of the tags, keeping them from slipping away. It makes Chuck's breath catch in his throat, and his hips stutter as a spike of pleasure jolts through him, sudden and unexpected. 

"Rals," he gasps, too fucked out now to care, "I'm—"

He can't even finish stringing the words together, but Raleigh gets the point: There's barely any space between them now, but he manages to get a hand on himself, jacking himself with quick, hard strokes that he times with Chuck's thrusts. He can't talk anymore with Chuck's dog tags still in his mouth, but he keeps making noise—small, keening sounds in the back of his throat that are driving Chuck fucking _insane_.

When he comes, Raleigh bites down on the tag to muffle his shout, teeth grinding against the metal.

Chuck manages a very eloquent _"Fuck,"_ dropping his head down into the crook of Raleigh's neck, panting against Raleigh's sweat-soaked skin, Raleigh's come slippery and hot between them. 

Finally, Raleigh lets Chuck's dog tags slip out of his mouth, and he starts talking immediately, encouraging little quips that—at any other time—would make Chuck roll his eyes so hard fucking _Striker_ would be able to feel it, but that now just work him up, bringing him closer and closer to climax. 

"Yeah, c'mon, Hansen, right there," Raleigh says, voice taking on a sharper edge; "right there, Chuck," he repeats, and then Raleigh clenches around him, tilting his hips and meeting his thrusts, and Chuck bottoms out as he comes, voice muffled against Raleigh's neck. 

Raleigh keeps him close as he comes down, heels still dug into the small of Chuck's back, and doesn't complain when Chuck collapses on top of him after pulling out. 

"This is disgusting," Chuck complains after a few minutes, when he can feel Raleigh's come drying on his chest.

"Hmm," Raleigh agrees, fingers twisted idly in the chain around Chuck's neck.


End file.
